


Show Me

by there_must_be_a_lock



Series: Three(k)some Ficlets [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Appreciation Society meeting, Dean Winchester worship in threesome's clothes, F/M, M/M, Threesome - F/M/M, the softest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: I cleared my throat nervously. “Show me what he likes.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester/You
Series: Three(k)some Ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004706
Kudos: 24





	Show Me

I’d always known Dean’s lips were meant for kissing, but it was one thing to catch myself staring at the little thing he does with his tongue sometimes and another thing altogether to _feel_ : soft pillowy-sweet kisses, easy and lush, patient like he could spend all day doing nothing else. 

This was so much better than anything I could imagine. Dean’s hand was cupping my cheek, firm but so very careful, gentle as he held me close. I could feel the heat of his body all down my front, and Castiel at my back. Cas was propped up on one elbow as he watched us, and his other hand was on my hip, thumb stroking back and forth slowly like a silent blessing. I was still reeling at that; I couldn’t believe this was happening, let alone with both of them. 

I always felt guilty, once Dean and Cas got together, for the idle fantasies that played through my mind, sometimes, in the half-awake moments when I couldn’t control myself. They were so _happy_ together. It felt wrong to even fantasize about intruding on that. 

But here we were. 

I broke the kiss but didn’t pull away, staying so close to Dean that our noses brushed, and took a deep breath. It was like I was seeing him for the first time: the tiny freckles, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the gold in his lashes. Dean ran his thumb over my swollen lower lip, smiling, and the warmth in his expression lit me up from the inside. 

“What do you want?” Cas asked, lips brushing the shell of my ear, and he pressed slow, languorous kisses to the curve of my neck while I tried to find a coherent answer to that question. I looked at Dean, from the puffy pink of his lips, down his chest, using my fingertips to trace the shapes of scars and the planes of muscles, following the little trail of hair that led from his bellybutton and down to where he was hidden by the sheet. 

I met his eyes again, overwhelmed by the simple physical beauty of him, but even more so by the open raw tenderness in his eyes, the softness, the vulnerability that he usually kept hidden. It was all there on his face for me to see. 

“Want to make you feel good,” I whispered, in the world’s most ridiculous understatement. 

Dean bit his lip, brushing my hair back from my temple and grazing his knuckles over my jaw, before saying simply, “I’m all yours.” 

I rolled onto my back so that I could look up at Cas. “Can you —” I cleared my throat nervously. “Show me what he likes.” 

Cas smiled softly, eyes twinkling. Then he exchanged a look with Dean, the two of them having some silent conversation, before he turned back to me. 

“I can _show_ you, if you want,” he rasped. I raised an eyebrow. 

“Angel shit,” Dean explained, with a smirk. “As much as I’d love for him to _demonstrate_ right now, we could be here all day.” 

I let out a nervous giggle. “Yeah, okay.” 

Cas pressed two fingers to my forehead, and I closed my eyes. 

It was like he didn’t know where to start, and for a moment the memories poured in all at once, quick flickers of them: the line of Dean’s neck as his head fell back, a close-up flash of a mischievous smile, silky black rope a startling contrast with his skin, white teeth denting the curve of his lower lip as he tried to hold back a moan, the shifting muscles of his shoulders glazed with sweat. 

_Jesus_. 

Then the flood slowed. 

Dean on his knees, his lips stretched around Cas, doing something with his tongue that should be illegal. Cas thrusts into his mouth, and there’s a visceral gut-punch sensation of hotwetperfect pressure, and when he says _so good, you’re so fucking good_ , he can feel the reverberation of Dean’s low whine as his eyes flutter closed. 

A quiet moment in low golden light, both of them fucked-out and satisfied and half asleep. Dean running his hands over Cas’s body, memorizing every inch of him, totally enthralled. 

Dean is scrubbing his hands through his hair, expression stormy, and then his eyes flick to the door, and Cas realizes Dean’s waiting for him to leave. Instead he grabs him by the flannel and hauls him in for a rough, bruising kiss, murmuring, _I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you,_ feeling the tension drain from Dean’s shoulders. _You’re such a fucking douchebag sometimes_ , Dean grumbles against his lips, but he’s tugging Cas back and pulling him down onto the bed, and Cas holds him down, rolls his hips, reminding Dean that he’s not leaving ever again. 

_I love you_ , Cas tells him, and it’s not the first time he’s said it but Dean’s eyes are huge and liquid and uncertain, like he’s not sure whether he can believe what he’s hearing. 

Dean moving torturously slow, and they’re both desperate, both on the edge, but Dean rocks forward like he’s moving through honey and Cas is groaning, close to begging. He asks, _what are you doing?_ and Dean answers, breathless, _taking my time_. Cas pants _why_? and Dean’s response is low and growling right against his ear: _because I can._

Dean’s stomach, a livid bruise in the shape of Cas’s mouth, and Cas nips at another patch of sweaty skin, working it between his teeth, rough, as Dean hisses and arches his back and grits out _harder_. His chest is heaving and there are bruises dotting his torso, a finger-shaped set around one hip from the first round, purple reminders of teeth and hands that Dean will admire in the mirror later. When Cas murmurs _love you_ , Dean grins without any sort of hesitation and responds _I know_ , and he’s quoting Star Wars but it’s also true: he _knows_. Cas has been marking Dean as his own since the very first time they met, and Dean is finally starting to understand what it means. 

The memories faded to black, and I opened my eyes. 

“That’s what he needs,” Cas said, watching me intently, making sure I understood. “The rest isn’t important.” 

“Show him?” I asked, and he smiled. 

“Exactly.” 


End file.
